Thought Of The Day

A lot of times, the reason we don’t do things is out of insecurity. Do the opposite of this, do the thing, and don’t fear FAILING. And with that, what if you trick yourself in a way, and do the action so as to fail? That is the objective. By doing this, it frees you from that fear, and might, in the end, create something interesting because of that fearlessness. At the very least, an unexpected outcome. And perhaps, the thing you were trying to accomplish in the first place.



Busch Light In A Bud Light Bottle

I’m behind the Hotel bar, in the house this weekend, are people visiting from small towns in Iowa, for a wrestling tournament.

These people have a refined taste in beer.  Almost exotic, I’d say.

Busch Light.

Yep, that’s about it.  Busch Light.  Pretty simple.

Unfortunately, we don’t have Busch Light behind the bar.

I’m getting frustrated because every other order is for Busch Light.  Why the hell didn’t someone think ahead, get a Busch Light keg?  Hey, I don’t do the ordering, NMP.

My manager comes behind the bar when it gets busy.  Guy comes up with a Nascar jacket, asks for a Busch Light.  She says, off the cuff, we have Busch Light in a Bud Light bottle!  It takes me a second to figure out her quip.  Nice.  He looks at her a little confused, then smiles, says, alright.  I’ll take that.

Wish I could take credit for that piece of gold, but that one goes to my manager.




Never Say One More

I’m working a banquet tonight, guy comes up, orders a Jim Beam and Diet.  I get it for him, he tips me a buck, takes off.  About 20 minutes later, he comes back up, asks for another one.  I get him another Jim Beam Diet, he tips a buck, takes off.

About half-hour later, Mr Jim Beam comes up, says, give me ONE more.  I say, hang on, hang on now.  Why you putting yourself up to a wall like that?  You’re just setting yourself up for failure.  No need to say one more.  You say one more, then you feel guilty coming back up, if you want another one.  It’s like in life.  Don’t make any promises, you won’t let anyone down, including yourself.  He laughs, says, ok.  Give me another one.

20 minutes later, Mr Jim comes back up to the bar, with an empty glass, sets it down,

And just smiles.




Are We Living In A Virtual Reality?

I always like to “try out” all my new theories on my guests at the bar.  Got to talk about something.  Might as well throw something at them, see if it connects.

You ever watch Sci-fi movies?  Yeah, sometimes.  What about this?  You know in space movies, the passengers/crew members get in those hibernation caskets?  I don’t know what the official name is called.  They get in there on long travels through space so that when they arrive, they don’t age, not 150 years.  In 1,000 years, we’ll be traveling to other planets, like Mars, but it’ll take, even with all the new technologies, 100 years to get to the destination, because the planets are so far away.  I’ve read even if we’re able to go at light speed, it’ll take a helluva long time to travel thru space to get to a planet like Mars, or even further.  So you get into that “bed” like a mummy, and sleep for 100 years, and when you arrive, you’re not 150 years old, but the same age as when you left.

Now what happens when you’re in there?  Do you dream?  Perhaps to stave the boredom of 100 years of sleep, you experience a virtual reality.  They hook you up to that, and you live a virtual life for 100 years, before you get to your final destination.  Wouldn’t you rather that, than it be nothingness?  And maybe you can choose your virtual reality experience?  We’re in the year 3,000.  You can choose a reality from the past:  Year 1500 to perhaps hang out with Shakespeare, or maybe 2000, to hang out with a young Britney Spears.  Whatever you want.  The trick would be to NOT KNOW that it is a virtual reality world, because if you knew it was, that might cause you to WAKE UP.  You wake up, like you’d do a bad dream, but in this case, you’d be stuck in space for another 100 years, and obviously, not make it to your destination, because you wouldn’t probably live that old.  Or maybe you’d just get back in, and pick year 2017, to meet Clint Curtis, the forefather and Nostradamus of this future experience.

(See what I did there).

When you die, you wake up in Mars, or wherever your destination, and you live what life that place has to offer.

Now here’s my point, you can probably see where this is going.  What if RIGHT NOW we’re actually in that hibernation, and experiencing 2017. This isn’t actually reality, but a virtual reality we’re experience from the past.  We are experiencing the life of our forefathers.  Again, when we die, we wake up, and we’re actually thousands of years into the future.

I was watching a movie last night, and I loved this beautiful line.  It’s in the future, and one character says to the other character, you’re a bad person.  I’m NOT like you.  And he says,

It doesn’t matter.  You’re here, and I’m here.

So are we actually living a virtual life?

It doesn’t matter.  I’m here, and you’re here, and that’s all we can really prove right now.




Yo Hitman

I’m working the bar, three big black guys sit down.

(Yes, brace yourself for potential racist-ish story).

They order drinks:  chilled Patrón with Corona and lime on side. Double Tito’s neat, with a Corona and lime on side. Double Tito’s with exorbitant amount of Rose’s Lime, on the rocks, with a Heinekin on the side.

We get to chatting, the guys are from Chi-Town. That’s what cool people call Chicago. Like you’d say “Frisco.”  We get quickly on the topic of TV shows, one of the guys says to me, have you seen the show Power?  I say, is that the one with all the black people in it?  He says, enthusiastically, yeah!  I say, with a straight face, no. I wouldn’t like that. I don’t like black people.

He takes a pause, then busts out laughing. He hits his friend next to him. DID YOU HEAR WHAT HE SAID?!?!  He said he doesn’t like black people!!!

I say, I’m kidding. I like black people. I had a friend in elementary school that was black named Addaryl.

It’s pretty slow, I’m able to focus on the guys. They’re in town for a bachelor party, then a wedding. I’m like, hang on. Friday night, you have the bachelor party, then Saturday, you have the wedding?  That’s fucked up.

After the fifth shot of Patrón, one of the guys starts calling me Hitman. Yo, Hitman!  Get me another Corona! You want a lime in that?  Yeah, get me a lime, Hitman.

By the end of it, Chicago is hammered. Mr Patrón is like, yo Hitman. You my Ni**a. I love you, man. And I’m like,

If I wasn’t white, I’d say the same thing back at you.





Dumb Way To Sprain Your Wrist

I’m in the back office with my manager counting my bank. Busy night, I’m exhausted, actually the first time I’ve sat down for seven hours.

We’re talking, I say, God my wrist is hurting. Why?  She says, with a wink. I say, not because of that. It’s actually even more embarrassing. My wrist is actually sprained. She says, how did you do it?


I’m thinking she wouldn’t necessarily relate to the cause of this predicament, but she says, yeah!  The ice cream is so hard!!

I’m on my break, I’m thinking, yeah, some ice cream would hit the spot. They have this cheap ass ice cream in the kitchen, it’s in this huge tub, and for some reason, it’s always practically empty. Just not quite empty enough to throw it away. There’s SOME ice cream on the bottom of the bucket, and SOME on the side. There’s a scooper there, but it’s literally IMPOSSIBLE to scoop the ice cream out. And you don’t scoop it. You basically SCRAPE it off. And this time, I was determined. I wanted that ice cream by any means necessary. And I think I sprained my wrist halfway thru. But I kept going. I NEEDED that ice cream. By the end, I barely got two scoops out. And my wrist from it all was totally fucked.

My manager says, I think there’s something wrong with the cooler. It’s too cold, the ice cream’s a frozen block.

I ate my ice cream miserably with a limp, sore wrist.

I mean, it still tasted good.



The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is White Pants

I’m bartending, I look out into the crowd in front of me, and I notice a guy, with white pants. Ok, maybe white slacks. I don’t know if they had pleats or not, bc he was facing away from me. They were not cream, but bright white. He was wearing a jacket with it, and I’m going to assume, a collared shirt.

So I’m thinking, wow, that shit is daring. I have NEVER in my LIFE ever worn white pants. Could you imagine the fear you would have on getting a stain? Just take one glass of wine spill. One time you sit in something wrong. Think of the paranoia you would feel. I just couldn’t do it. I have too much to worry about. Ok, women now, they can hang with the white pants. They’re more responsible than men. They know all the tricks on getting out stains. And usually, they look good on them. I don’t know about the don’t wear white after whenever. You’re not going to hear from me, oh me gerd, that woman is wearing white in November!

Later on, the guy comes up, and damn if he doesn’t get a glass of red wine. This guy’s my hero!  The NERVE!  The AUDACITY!

The fearlessness.

JFK would’ve been impressed.